


Like Magnets

by Chicktar



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, Father/Son Incest, Fingering, Incest, M/M, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stiles is Legal, not technically underage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 19:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15758382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chicktar/pseuds/Chicktar
Summary: The Sheriff finds out Stiles wants him as much as he wants Stiles, so he wakes Stiles up with sex.  This is porn held loosely together with the tiniest smattering of plot.NOTE:  This is incest.  Also, it is dubcon as the consent here is rather vague and is via hearsay.  Please do not read if you do not like.





	Like Magnets

The door creaked as he opened it and John mentally cursed himself for never getting around to the little household maintenance things.  But Stiles didn’t move.  He was sleeping face-down, spread-eagled and catty-corner across his bed, as if despite how slim his figure was he could take up his entire queen size bed if he simply spread out enough.  A sheet covered most of the lower half of Stiles’ body, but one leg stuck out past the edge and the curve of his ass and lines of his legs were clearly outlined by the drape of the fabric.  Stiles was snoring lightly, mouth partially open, long lashes resting over his smooth, soft cheeks.

John’s cock twitched in his boxers and he reached down unconsciously to rub his growing erection. 

It felt like he had been waiting for this so long.  Though he really hadn’t been waiting.  He had never intended to act on the feelings he had for his son.  Not until Parrish had come into his office that day, shut the door behind himself and started talking.  He’d known that over the last year his son and his deputy had become close, in fact, he’d actually thought they were in a sexual relationship.  It’s not as if either of them would have wanted to share the details with the Sheriff, and they were clearly spending so much time together.  Especially since Scott McCall had become joined at the hip to his girlfriend, Allison.  He’d just assumed that when Stiles had hit his 17th birthday, he and Jordan had taken things to the next level.  It explained everything:  why Stiles always seemed flushed and excited when they came out of his closed bedroom; why Stiles closed his laptop whenever the Sheriff came in his room while he was messaging with Parrish; why Stiles had switched from asking the Sheriff about his bisexuality to dropping hints that Stiles felt the same way.

Seeing what he thought was the evidence of Stiles’ active sex life—with an older man, no less—had tortured John.  But he had become an expert at suppressing his inappropriate desire for his son.  So he just forced himself to continue on—trying not to look at Stiles that way or think about all the things he might be doing to or with Parrish.  When it got to be too hard, he put on civvies and drove three towns over to sleep with a young man he had found there who looked younger than his 20 years and enough like Stiles that John could let his mind drift and imagine, for a moment, that the heat beneath him was his perfect, beautiful boy.

Then Parrish had stood in his office and explained he was breaching Stiles’ confidence, but he felt he had to.  John still wasn’t sure what results Parrish expected—if he just thought John would talk to Stiles about it or perhaps get him some counseling.  Or if Parrish could sense John’s hunger for his own son and was somehow perfectly okay with it and just wanted to be out of the middle of it all.

_Stiles and I aren’t having sex._

_Stiles is still a virgin.  He’s saving himself.  For you._

_He’s obsessed with you._

_He fantasizes about you constantly._

John had gone home straight after that meeting and spent the last 10 hours going over and over everything his deputy had said.  He had already doubted and questioned and wondered and worried and debated and considered.  Endlessly.  Over and over.  But the entire time something had been growing inside of himself that he could now feel in equal shares with his never-ending desire.  Hope.  Together with the need and want he had always felt for his son, it had easily overcome the morals he had always thought he believed in.  It turns out the only thing really keeping him from Stiles now that he was old enough was his belief that Stiles would reject him.  But he believed Parrish.  Sincerity and concern for both Stiles and the Sheriff had oozed from every pore as he talked about Stiles’ desires.  And Parrish believed Stiles.  And there just was no reason Stiles would have lied to Jordan day after day in such detail and so emotionally over such a long period.  It would have been quite an elaborate and extensive hoax and to what end?  Stiles had apparently even shown Parrish an extensive collection of pornography he had collected that he called ‘my Dadcest Catalog’ as well as a set of toys he used in his fantasies or dreamed of using someday with John.

_He’s into…he wants to submit to you._

_Stiles stole a set of handcuffs from the station and says he dreams of you using them on him._

_Stiles said he can’t quit thinking about kneeling in front of you._

_He wants you to use him._

Already trying to control himself, the word ‘submit’ had sent every free ounce of blood in his body down to his groin and he had barely managed to suppress a moan.  Stiles not only wanted him, but wanted the same things he did—wanted to be taken and used by John.  Fuck.  It was too good to be true.  But at the same time maybe it made perfect sense.  It had always been the two of them.  And they had always both felt most at home when John was trying to protect Stiles—even if it was sometimes from himself.

He looked down at Stiles’ bare back disappearing under his sheet.  He bent down and slowly pulled the sheet all the way off the bed, revealing a completely naked Stiles.  His skin was pale and perfect and his ass was so round and delicious looking that John could barely keep from dropping down and biting it right away.  But he managed to focus on his goal.  Stiles was a deep sleeper normally and he’d slipped a couple sleeping pills into the Gatorade he knew Stiles would drink before bed, but he still wasn’t sure he’d be able to make Stiles’ fantasy happen.  But he sure as fuck was going to try.

Though he knew in his heart it wasn’t just because Stiles wanted it.  It was also because he was a coward—still too afraid to just start a conversation with his son about their mutual desires.  How could he say it out loud?  How could he tell Stiles that he was willing to breach every trust a child puts into a parent in order to satisfy the desperate hunger John had been living with for years now?  Even if Stiles felt the same way, John thought having to face it in the cold light of day might be too much for him.  Might stop him from giving them both what they thirsted for.

_His favorite video is a son being woken up by his father fucking him._

John pressed his thumbs beneath his boxers waistband and shoved them down.  His cock slapped wetly against his stomach, making him realize how hard he was and that he must have been leaking pre-cum for a while judging by the stain on his boxers.  His cock was practically sore with need already and he hadn’t even touched Stiles yet.  He dropped to his knees on the bed between Stiles’ wide-spread legs, letting the lube bottle in his hand drop next to him.  He reached out with both hands and gripped the globes of Stiles’ ass, rubbing gently and then squeezing more roughly and soaking up the feeling of their perfect, round, firm-yet-tender shape in his hands.  Stiles barely reacted, letting out a light huff of air between snores and moving one arm down the bed about four inches before letting it rest again. 

John didn’t stop, he squeezed and caressed Stiles’ ass until he was satisfied that he could recall the feeling again any time—that somehow that sensation was his now and could never be taken away from him.  Then he let his left hand slide gently down Stiles’ crack to where he could just see Stiles’ balls pressed between himself and the mattress and he slid his fingers over them, feeling that insanely soft, sensitive skin as his right hand continued roughly gripping and releasing the wonderful, sweet meat of Stiles’ ass.  He was perfect.  Still so young and tender and unspoiled and at the same time old enough that he was all man—vibrant and strong and soon to be all John’s.

John picked up the bottle of lube and smeared some on the fingers of his right hand then used his left hand and the heel of his right to spread Stiles’ ass nice and wide open, getting his first glimpse of Stiles’ hole.  It was perfect.  Pink and puckered with just the tiniest smattering of hair.  Unable to control himself he leaned down and pressed his lips to it, inhaling slow and deep of Stiles’ scent.  It was musky and sweaty but the tiniest bit sweet and somehow it made the Sheriff’s cock jerk as lust spiked through his body.  He was going to have this.  Right now.  He was going to take his own son—slide his fucking rock hard desperate needy cock into that tight virgin ass and own it as no one ever had before or ever would be able to after.  If Stiles wanted to be used, John would make sure he got everything he needed.  He’d make sure neither of them would ever forget it.

He reluctantly pulled back, hoping that after this he would have all the time in the world to eat Stiles out in the future.  But right now, he needed to be inside Stiles.  And Stiles needed him.

He ran the tips of his lubed fingers over Stiles’ rim, watching the tight little hole twitch under the attention and then relax just a tiny bit.  He couldn’t believe how perfect it looked—how perfect Stiles was.  He let his middle fingertip slip into the waiting gap and then pressed in against the resistance until it was sliding in, first to one knuckle and then the second.  John was mesmerized, pulling his finger back out gently and then pressing back again, repeating it several times and then when he was sliding in as far as he could with no real resistance, he added a bit more lube to his fingers and tried slipping his index finger in along with the middle one.  He’d had sex with few men in the last decade and had participated in prepping both himself and his partners, but he had never once been so fascinated by watching his fingers disappear inside another body.  There was something that made both his heart and his cock lurch as Stiles’ ass seemed to suck his fingers in.  He was soon sliding both fingers in and out and starting to caress and feel the walls of Stiles’ hole, spreading his fingers as he went to stretch Stiles out and prepare him for John’s cock.  Stiles was hot and tight and John tried not to focus on how good it was going to feel when he pressed his cock in for the first time because he was afraid he might lose it before then and who knew how long it would take him to recover.  He was no 17-year-old anymore and he was desperate not to disappoint Stiles.

Stiles had stopped snoring and his hands had clenched into fists, one around the edge of Stiles’ pillow and one simply on air and a bit of the bottom sheet.  But he was definitely breathing heavily and his body rocked gently with the movement of John’s hand.  John pulled his fingers out and joined his ring finger with the others, then slowly started to press all three inside Stiles’ waiting heat.  As he tried to push past that resisting muscle just behind Stiles’ pink, puckered rim, Stiles whimpered and his body seemed to pull away.  John picked up the lube and applied more to both his fingers and Stiles’ hole and then lightly rubbed Stiles’ lower back with his left hand as he pressed those three fingers once more into Stiles’ ass.  He moved slowly and carefully, and this time the sound Stiles made didn’t sound like pain or discomfort, instead it was a sort of gasped groan, and before John had even slid his fingers in halfway Stiles’ body seemed to be pressing back against him as if chasing those fingers and seeking more.  John twisted his fingers and continued to press in and Stiles’ inhaled a deep ragged breath, then lout it out in a quiet sort of whined moan.  Stiles made no signs of actually waking up, just continued to breathe heavily, letting out his breath in gasps and moans, and John continued to twist and work three fingers deep into Stiles’ ass.  John was breathing heavily now, too, his cock painfully hard and his body shaking with the desire he’d been forcefully suppressing for years now.

When he had all three fingers inside Stiles as far as they would go, he stared at Stiles’ rim spread around his knuckles, the pink stretched to a near white now, the skin no longer puckered as it made room for the width of John’s rather large fingers.  He twisted slightly and pulled back out halfway then pressed back in, mesmerized by the way Stiles’ ass tried to cling to him and then spread open now so easily and welcomed him back in.  He started moving his fingers, spreading them and trying to stretch Stiles open a bit more, just as Stiles’ body started rocking up and down again with his rhythm, practically fucking himself on John’s hand.  John’s left hand slid down from Stiles back to grab a handful of his ass again and he sped up the pace, twisting and spreading his fingers inside Stiles, and watching his son’s body press down onto his fingers as if it couldn’t get enough. 

He needed to feel Stiles wrapped around him.

He needed to get in that tight hole.

He needed to _own_ and _use_ and _take_ and make Stiles his.

With a sudden growl he pulled his fingers back and leaned his body forward to hover over Stiles.  He whispered in his ear, “Gonna turn you over, baby.  Need to see you.” And then he scooped a hand under one side of Stiles chest and pulled gently, urging him to roll over.  Stiles followed without complaint, rolling onto his back and letting John tug him to the middle of the bed.  He murmured something John couldn’t hear, but didn’t open his eyes. 

“That’s good, Stiles.  I’m gonna make this so good for you, baby.”

He settled back again between Stiles legs, getting a look for the first time at Stiles’ hard cock.  It was smaller than John’s but lay proud and red with need in Stiles’ nest of hair and John almost bent down to engulf it in his mouth and see what it would feel like to have his own son…

No.  He couldn’t be distracted.  Maybe just maybe there would be time for all of that.  Time for everything they both wanted.  But right now…

_He said he dreams of opening his eyes to see you above him and feel you…_

John brought one of Stiles’ legs up to rest on his chest, Stiles’ other leg already spread wide off to the side.  He scooted forward, tight up against his son’s ass, settling back a bit on his feet to stare at Stiles’ glistening pink, puckered little hole.  John’s cock rested between his knees, just an inch away from it, leaking and so hard he was nearly gritting his teeth with need.

Fuck.

He was about to do this.

He still knew it was wrong, but nothing in his life, except maybe the first time he had held Stiles in his arms, had _felt_ as perfect and _right_ as it had a moment earlier when Stiles had moaned in his sleep and pressed back onto his fingers. 

Knowing that Stiles wanted this too, he felt his heart soaring in a way that utterly smothered the last remaining sense of wrong left in his head.

He looked up at his son’s sleeping face.  His features were smooth and relaxed, his lips just barely parted, though he was still breathing heavier than normal and his hands had again taken hold of the sheet beneath him.

Stiles.

Clever, brave, sparkling Stiles.

John picked up the lube where he had dropped it and slicked himself up, so sensitive he flinched at the first touch of his hand.  He stroked gently, just a few times, calming himself, trying to focus on what was most important here—making it good for Stiles.  Then he leaned in, lining himself up with Stiles hole until the head of his cock was cradled against Stiles’ rim and he could just barely feel the inviting press of flesh and heat against him.  John pressed forward, staring with rapt attention, at his cock as it spread Stiles’ skin around it, the rim stretch and pulling taut and white as it made way before him.  Then for a heartbeat nothing happened as he continued to lean in and push with his hips until suddenly Stiles’ muscle gave way and his head slipped inside into heat and pressure and John couldn’t restrain the loud moan that tore from his throat.

It was good.

It was _so_ good.

It was so much better than…

…than anything.

Than anything he could ever remember.

All he wanted was this.

More of this.

More of this going on and on and on.

Fuck.

He wanted to slam forward and fuck and ram and plow and take and use and fuck fuck fuck FUCK.

He was shaking.

He was on his knees between his son’s legs, the head of his cock held tight in his son’s ass, shaking like a goddamn leaf.

He forced in a long, deep, slow breath.

It came out like a shudder.

Then he took another breath.

And let it out a little more smoothly.

And another.

And another.

Finally, he felt his control return, and pressed his hips forward.  His cock slid slowly into Stiles, and that hot pressure wrapped all around him.  He dropped his left arm to the bed next to Stiles’ shoulder as he continued to push in further.  His right arm was wrapped around Stiles’ leg and as his hips rocked in and he leaned forward over Stiles, his weight bent Stiles’ almost in half, tilting Stiles’ ass up to meet John’s slow, relentless thrust. 

Finally, he was buried to the hilt inside Stiles’ tight heat, bent close and tight over his son.  He was inches from Stiles’ face and Stiles’ ragged breathing was nearly as loud to him now as his own.  Stiles looked so beautiful—young, but somehow so matured.  His lips looked so soft and pink—just as inviting and welcoming as his ass already felt.

With his eyes locked onto Stiles’ face, John rocked his hips back, pulling out about halfway and then slowly pressing back in, trying to keep his motion as smooth and easy as possible.      

Stiles breathing stuttered a bit, but he showed no other reaction.

John rocked back again, a bit farther this time, then slid forward again, marveling at how Stiles seemed to suck his cock back in just like his fingers earlier.

Stiles let out a sound, like a whimper or a murmur of something John couldn’t hear clearly, and rocked his hips a bit, somehow pressing John’s cock in even deeper.  His balls were tight against Stiles’ ass now and he could feel the hard, hot length of Stiles’ cock pressed between their stomachs.

Eyes riveted to Stiles, he pulled back until only the head was still inside, and without pause pressed back in with a slow, satisfying, deep thrust. 

Stiles let out a sound somewhere between a whine and a moan and one of his arms swung up to press a hand against his headboard.  He didn’t open his eyes, but his forward furled as if in concentration. 

John rolled his hips in a circle, pressing into Stiles’ body, reveling in how Stiles’ velvety walls seemed to stroke and rub against his length.

Stiles’ eyes fluttered.

John rolled his hips more, rocking and playing in Stiles’ ass, wondering how it would feel for Stiles to wake up stuffed full like this.

Stiles’ eyes stopped fluttering, staying open a crack and then widening and trying to focus on the man just inches above him.

John added the smallest of strokes out and then in to the roll of his hips, loving the sensation as he closed that couple of inches between them until their groins were pressed tight together again.

It just felt so right.

It was perfection.

Stiles stared at him and Stiles’ free hand drifted down to rest against his leg. 

“Dad?”  It came out more like a breath or a pant than an actual word.

“I’m here, Stiles,” John said, rocking his hips back and pressing forward again.

Stiles’ eyes opened wide and he inhaled sharply.  “Dad!”

“Yes, baby,” John murmured without stopping, just pulling back out and pressing in again.

“Ooooh,” Stiles moaned.  He stared at John as if seeing a ghost.

John rocked and rolled his hips again, pushing in firm and tight inside Stiles and letting Stiles feel as full as he could make him. 

Stiles’ leg that wasn’t trapped between them wrapped around the Sheriff’s hip and he could feel Stiles’ heel against his ass.  “Oh.  Oh God!  Dad,” Stiles gasped.

“I know, baby,” John said, “you feel so good, baby.”  He pulled out and pressed back in.

“Dad, fuck, oh…” Stiles panted, “I…  I can’t believe…”

“I’ve got you, Stiles,” John said, pulling out and sliding back in.  “As long as you want this?” 

“Yes!” Stiles blurted out, as his hand gripped hard into John’s thigh and his heel pulled John tight against him again.  “Don’t stop, Dad.  Please.  Please.  Oh, fuck.”

“It’s okay, baby,” John said, pulling his arm free from between them, letting Stiles’ left leg wrap join the other to wrap around his waist.  He brought his hand up to cup Stiles’ cheek, and ran his thumb over Stiles’ trembling bottom lip.  “I’m not going anywhere.”  He rolled his hips with a bit more force and felt something in his chest lurch when Stiles’ gasped and groaned in response.

“Please…” Stiles said again, his hips now rolling in concert with John’s.  “Please, Dad.”

“Please what, baby?” John said, slipping his fingers up to glide into Stiles’ hair and then cup the back of his son’s head.

“Fuck me,” Stiles whispered, his eyes wide and trusting.

John’s stomach flipped and his cock tried valiantly to twitch inside Stiles’ tight channel.

He hadn’t planned to be a tease—still didn’t intend to, but he suddenly needed more of this—more of Stiles’ begging him just like this.

“Is that what you want, baby?” John said, rolling his hips gently.  “You want your own father to fuck your tight little hole?”

“Yes!” Stiles gasped immediately, squeezing his legs around John and trying to pull him in tighter.  “Yes!”

“Mmmm,” John hummed.  “But you sound so good begging, Stiles.  Can you do it for me just a little more?  Tell your Dad what you want and how much you want it?”

“Want you to fuck me so bad,” Stiles panted.  He was trying almost frantically to roll his hips beneath John and tug John in more as if they could somehow get even closer.  “Wanted it for so long!  Dream about your cock…”

John’s hips jerked roughly at the word cock slipping from Stiles’ lips and he pulled back and thrust forward roughly without thinking.

“Uunnnh…” Stiles moaned loudly, his eyes closing, but clearly in pleasure rather than any kind of discomfort.  “Yeah…yeah…”

John pulled back again and this time thrust in hard intentionally, amazed at how good it felt to shove in hard to his son’s perfect hot, little ass.

“Dad!  Yes!” Stiles gasped, his fingernails gouging into John’s leg even as his other hand gripped hard at the headboard.  He opened his eyes and looked straight at John.  “More!”

John let himself go then, fucking his son in earnest.  He set up a punishing pace, slamming his cock in and out of Stiles’ ass like a piston.  Everything about it was perfect.  The shape and feel of Stiles’ smaller body beneath his.  Those long lithe strong legs around him, tugging him forward with each thrust.  Stiles’ gigantic, wide caramel eyes staring into his.  The sound of his balls and groin slapping hard against Stiles’ ass.  And that smooth, silky grasping heat all around his shaft, sliding against him, squeezing and holding and caressing and milking him.  But best of all was the sound of Stiles’ pants and his voice, mindlessly murmuring out his pleasure.

_Yes!_

_Yes!_

_Fuck!_

_Dad!_

_Oh._

John sped up. Ramming his cock into Stiles again and again.  Fucking his son hard and fast.  Taking everything he wanted.  Everything he needed.

_Oh fuck._

_Dad._

_Dad._

_Fucking…_

_Dad._

_Your cock…_

John groaned loudly.  He felt that telltale heat gathering in his groin, pressing down.  He jerked ruthlessly forward and back, fucking Stiles urgently.

_Oh fuck…_

_Love your cock…_

_Yes!_

_Yes!_

_Fuck me!_

_Yes, Dad!_

Stiles squirmed and writhed beneath him now and John was barely keeping his rhythm together.  His balls were starting to tighten and he should….he should touch Stiles…should make sure Stiles…

_Holy…_

_Dad…so good…_

_Dad…gonna…_

Stiles’ body was shaking and the feeling of his son coming apart underneath him was driving John over the brink. 

_Dad…go—_

_Can’t…_

Stiles shouted and his legs clenched suddenly, holding John in tight, even as Stiles’ ass seemed to squeeze and flutter around his cock.  John’s orgasm crashed over him, and suddenly he was shaking, too, spurting his release out deep inside of his son.  His eyes had closed and he missed it—missed seeing Stiles’ face right when he come, but he realized he could feel a wetness spreading against his stomach that must have been Stiles’ cock jerking his release out between them.  But all he could do was hold on tightly to Stiles and let Stiles hold onto him as they shuddered out their mutual satisfaction together.

Maybe thirty seconds had passed or maybe a few minutes when he opened his eyes to find Stiles staring at him.  His eyes were still wide, but the look seemed softer somehow now.

John let his fingers squeeze the back of Stiles’ head gently.  He wasn’t ready to move yet.

Stiles’ eyes drifted down and then back up.  “Can I…  Can I kiss you?” he whispered, and John realized Stiles had been looking at his lips.

He smiled and nodded, then bent forward to meet Stiles’ lips.  It was a soft, sweet kiss, just the press of lips against his, slow and steady, pressing forward with purpose and then sliding against his in a brief tilt to the side and back, and then gone as Stiles dropped his head back to the pillow. 

“Please tell me this was real,” his son said, and John chuckled lightly, making them both twitch a bit where they were still joined together.

“It’s real,” he said, trying to sound as steady as he could, despite his still slightly ragged breathing.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Stiles said.

“I have too, baby,” John murmured.

“So….can we…are we…?”

“You want to know if we can do this again.”

“Yes.  This and…and other things.”  Stiles said, and John could see the nervousness in his son’s face.  “I want…”

“Tell me,” John said, keeping his voice low and gentle.

“Everything,” Stiles whispered.

“You can have it,” John said.

 

The next day as they were making breakfast after a long, slow morning fuck that had Stiles begging to come by the end, Stiles said over his coffee, “So, Parrish was pretty good, huh?”

“Good at what, baby?” John asked, surprised at how easily the new endearment rolled off his tongue already.

“Well, I just mean…you know…it worked.”

“It…Parrish…worked.”  The Sheriff stared at his son.  “You put him up to it.  You told him to confess all of that to me.”

Stiles shrugged, but didn’t bother to hide the little smirk turning up one side of his mouth.

“You little shit,” John said, setting down a plate of pancakes in front of his son.

Stiles shrugged again.  “It was still all true.”

“And I walked right into your little trap.”

“My honey trap,” Stiles said, giggling wildly for a moment and then stuffing his mouth with a giant forkful of pancakes.

John stared at Stiles.  Ridiculous, sincere, intense, amazing Stiles.  “This kind of transgression can’t go unanswered, son,” he said, sitting down at the table behind his own plate.  “I’m just going to have to punish you for this.  And I think it’s going to start with you learning what it’s like to be handcuffed.”

Stiles’ eyes bulged almost comically as John smiled and dug into his own pancakes.  Two could play at this game.

**Author's Note:**

> Possible I will do more of this if it is liked--might want to play around with a little praise kink or submission kink for Stiles, maybe figure out what the Sheriff would be into that might surprise himself? I dunno, let me know if you guys have ideas.


End file.
